When You Send A Cat To Arkham
by SweetDeceit
Summary: After a bad gamble, Selina finds herself in trouble with a mob boss, and when a certain caped crusader gets in the way she ends up in Arkham Asylum. But what will happen when Joker takes over Arkham? Will Selina survive the night when every lunatic, murderer, and psychopath is loose? What happens when you send a cat to Arkham? Bat/Cat, based off of Arkham Asylum! Please R&R!


_**Author's Note: Okay so this is my first Batman fic and I'm not terribly great at beginnings so this might be a little shaky. I don't own Batman or anything. **_

_**As the summary said, Catwoman will go to Arkham in this fic; when I played Arkham Asylum and then later Arkham City it made me wonder what it would be like if Catwoman was there when Joker took over Arkham and this is based mostly on that, though I'm going to change the plot so it's not just playing the game again. **_

_**I'm not going to write with the Arkham City catwoman in mind because in my opinion her lines were too...cheesy, I'm sad to say. :(**_

_**Anyway so yeah, enjoy :)**_

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On any weeknight the Iceberg Lounge was one of the most extravagant, luxurious- not to mention _pricey_- hot spots for the elites of the richest part of Gotham, better known as the North side. The Lounge was one of the top restaurants in Gotham, the food was top-notch, the drinks were aplenty, and the atmosphere was quite alluring.

With tables scattered all around the circular-shaped lounge and a section in the back with secluded booths for the VIPs like Vikki Vale, Bruce Wayne, and all the other biggest names in Gotham. A massive icicle-themed chandelier illuminated the ceiling in cool light, though below it was still rather dark. The tables were set with fine silverware along with small ice sculptures that were

All-in-all, the Iceberg was a damn fine place to go, with its scenery and live jazz band, but the thing that made it really stand out from other places was the massive iceberg in the middle of the place, along with the three penguins which lived inside the little enclosure. No one ever knew how the owner of the Iceberg, Oswald Cobblepot, was allowed to keep the little guys inside a five-star dining establishment, but they were a crowd favorite. They were so popular in fact the regulars nicknamed the three amigos Tom, Lou, and Rick.

Yet while the weeknights might've brought in the money bags of Gotham, the weekends brought in a whole different crowd.

Because on weekends, the Iceberg was seamlessly transformed into the most prominent night club of Gotham.

The tables are moved to the sides to make room for the dance floor on one half of the place, lights are popped out of hidden compartments in the walls, and the classy wooden panels on the bar are pulled off to reveal the stainless steel beneath. Neon lights are set up behind the bar and along with the lights that shift over the dance floor, the iceberg in the center is illuminated to make the lounge look more like a winter wonderland than Gotham ever was outside of the club.

Now Oswald Cobblepot in the eyes of everyday citizens might've seemed like just an average businessman, maybe a little short but they come in all shapes in Gotham. As for Cobblepot being an average businessman, well, that wasn't terribly far from the truth, at least not by Gotham's standards. He had a past –and he took every opportunity to emphasize _past_- which included cheating on federal taxes, grand theft, smuggling, a couple accounts of attempted murder; the list was a bit too long to go through in a casual conversation.

And yet, he only served a year in Arkham.

A socialite getting out of prison with putting hardly any time in.

Imagine that.

But ever since Cobblepot was released he seemed keen on staying out, turned his former base of operations into the lounge and became a fully functioning, beneficial member of society. Or at least to anyone else he would seem that way.

Now while people like Vicki Vale and Bruce Wayne were given special access to the lounge- Cobblepot knew who his friends were. Or, at least those who could be the closest things to his 'friends'. The rogues were all given permission to enter the lounge- but only on the weekends- wouldn't want them scaring away the _real_ money now.

Cobblepot had a couple reasons for this- for one it was smart business; the rogues would come and go on a regular basis, and should he ever need one of the rogue's services, well it wouldn't be suspicious for them to be found in his club and couldn't be linked back to him 'beyond a reasonable doubt'.

Secondly, it allowed Cobblepot to keep tabs on his fellow rogues; who was talking to who, who was a no-show and if the newspaper said "Famous Egyptian Cat Statue Stolen" well, he'd know what they'd been up to last night.

But it wasn't like all the rogues liked coming to the lounge; those like Harvey and Ivy, who had physical…dilemmas, simply couldn't come out that much. Ivy would come out on some nights when Harley dragged her to the lounge, and for the most part she was safe under the colored lights and darkness of the place.

There were some nights –though very few- that most rogues could be found at the lounge.

And tonight was one of those nights.

Cobblepot sat in his office, high above the loud music, dancing, and drinking taking place below. He looked out over his little kingdom from behind a one way mirror that only a select few knew about. From here he could see Harley and Ivy dancing together on the dance floor, Edward Nygma sitting and drinking rather solemnly at the bar, and Jonathan Crane sitting alone at a table in the far back of the club where there was hardly any light.

That made four. Four rogues tonight.

Cobblepot lay back against the leather couch as he sipped on his whiskey, his eyes were fixed on the bar as green paper flowed in to the bartenders. His eyes were drawn to the entrance as a black haired woman stepped into the club.

She stood there for a moment, her deep green eyes raked through the crowd quickly. She wore a strapless skin tight burgundy dress that ended around mid-thigh. A black leather jacket covered her torso, but Cobblepot had seen her enough times-in just as tight leather- to know what dangerous curves lay beneath.

Make that five rogues on the night.

Cobblepot watched none other than Selina Kyle – known among the newspapers and rogues as Catwoman- as she weaved through the crowd and made her way to the backrooms Cobblepot would rent out to the Falcones when they had business that needed to be done on neutral territory. Business that rarely included a rogue.

The official definition of a 'rogue' in Gotham was a criminal that was blacklisted, at the top of the wanted list of the GCPD. Though Selina wasn't blacklisted yet, she made sure that her thefts were spaced out well enough to keep herself off the radar.

Selina approached the backrooms, a bouncer stood before the large black door with his muscled arms folded over his solid chest. He eyed her up as he spoke over the loud music, "Can I help you, miss?" he asked with a lusty smirk.

At least he appreciated her outfit for tonight; she'd spent an hour perfecting her smoky eye shadow and trying to figure out whether Carmine Falcone would appreciate leopard or plain black stilettos more. Normally, she couldn't give less of a damn about what he thought, but normally she wasn't about to tell a crime boss that she's lost his money in a faulty stock turnout.

"Carmine's expecting me; tell him Cat's here to see him." The bouncer quirked an eyebrow up, but said nothing before bringing his hand up to his ear and speaking into an earpiece. Selina just watched as he turned to face away as he spoke into the piece, she roamed her eyes over his muscles that seemed to bulge out from the short sleeves of his black T-shirt. She noticed small puncture marks on his arm and wondered how many different types of steroids he was on.

"Alright," he said when he turned back around, "you're clear, just watch yourself." Selina smiled as he held open the door for her and she stepped inside.

Four men sat around a poker table; all were wearing unbuttoned dress shirts and suit jackets, and all of them were smoking a cigar. The smoke billowed up toward the stain glass lamp that swayed slightly above them; a window on the far side of the room bathed all of them in neon lights.

"-So I told him 'you either disappear,'" one man said as he laid a card down on the table, "'or I send my boys out after you, clean and simple.'" The cigar prevented him from closing his mouth entirely, causing him to have a bit of a lisp.

"Hmm," Carmine said when he noticed Selina as she came into the light, "I half hope the bastard doesn't leave," he said as he tapped the end of his cigar in the ashtray to his right, "boys, you'll have to excuse us," the other three men turned and took note of Selina, their gazes lingered appreciatively as she slid her jacket off slowly,_ purposefully_, - she knew how to play it- they all stood and filed into the room next door, leaving Selina and Carmine alone.

Carmine was an older man- in his late fifties or early sixties and he was always well groomed, never a hair out of place or a missed patch of stubble to be found- he was spry enough to do some of the dirty work of his business, but these days he was mainly just the decision maker. His word was law and that's just how it was. If Carmine said he wanted someone dead, they'd usually turn up within 24 hours and a missing persons search would turn into a homicide investigation.

But nothing would ever be tied back to Carmine. There was a reason they called him 'The Roman'; he had his empire organized, and he knew who to pay off and who to eliminate to keep things spinning.

"Sit down, kitty," she hated that nickname, she'd only tolerate it tonight to stay on his good side, "want a Cuban?" he asked as he pushed a mahogany box across the table towards her.

She slipped her jacket over the chair across from him and sat, "No thanks," she said with a polite smile, "I'm trying to quit." He gave a small nod before tossing his cigar into the sash tray and reaching for another. Her head began to throb slightly from the smoke that was still in the air, "So tell me, Roman," she said with a purr as she leaned her chin on her hand trying to act interested, "how's business?"

His eyes dipped from her eyes for just a second, and he flashed a smile as he turned back to light his cigar.

"Ah, never mind about my business," he said as he raised the cigar to his lips and lit the end with a lighter he pulled from his pocket, "I'm more interested in _yours_;" Selina sighed inwardly, "tell me, how did our little stock venture turn out?"

Selina rubbed her red lips over each other before answering, "Not as well as I'd hoped." She said in a bitter tone as she looked down at the unfinished card game in the table. She noticed one card's corner had been folded and wondered which man was the cheater of the bunch.

"Meaning?" Carmine prodded in an even tone, as if he expected her answer.

Selina's eyes narrowed as Carmine sat back in his chair, his arms folded over his chest while smoke slipped from his mouth.

"_Meaning_," Selina began, "it didn't payout; the stocks plummeted as soon as the market opened."

This was not a position Selina had ever imagined herself being in. Yes, she'd made a gamble on a stock- something she rarely did- and yes, she'd gotten some extra money to invest from Carmine, and yes, it'd all gone to hell. She normally never took chances when it came to money, especially when it came to the _mob's_ money. She always plotted out her moves, did her research, and all that jazz. But she'd seen an opportunity, a chance at a bigger catch, so she'd asked Carmine for some extra money.

She'd had enough money to invest to make off with a pretty penny –if the stocks had turned out as she was promised- but she wasn't after just another couple months' rent; she wanted a ticket out of Gotham. For good.

Hopefully somewhere in the tropics.

And so, seeing an easy catch- max turnout of eight million- she'd gone to Falcone for a quick loan of three million, which she added to her one and a half for a grand total of 4.5 mil.

If she hadn't renovated her apartment she would've had enough to invest a similarly large sum all on her own. She would've lost all of it, but in the least it would've been_ hers_ to lose. This time she'd only done the math. Had the stocks gone how she thought they would, she would've been in paradise by now. But it'd all gone to shit in a bitchy turn of fate.

The stock had an estimated payback that would nearly double her money, enough to pay back Falcone, get a plane ticket and a nice piece of land in….Hawaii? Maybe somewhere in the Caribbean, she hadn't decided yet, it didn't really matter either, as long as she was somewhere warm and worry-free, she'd be in paradise.

But that little dream came to an end when the opening bell rang in the stock market office. People buzzed around the office below as the investors watched in the lounges above the floor. Selina had sat in a black leather chair, martini in hand, waiting for the opening bell.

When it finally did ring, she leaned back against the cool leather of the chair and watched as the numbers plummeted. A tiny curve came to her lips as she raised the glass to her lips, "Well, shit." To every other investor there, she looked as if she was watching paint dry. While all the other investors sat with their nails between their teeth, Selina only watched calmly as the money flowed down the drain.

And so here she was, asking Falcone for more time as countless junkies and unlucky gamblers had done before her, and as they will continuously do after her.

"That's a shame , but you promised me my money paid back in full tonight and by the looks 'a things," he took a moment to look her up and down before leaning forward in his chair and bringing his hands to rest on the green felt of the table top, "you don't have my money for me."

Selina closed her eyes for a moment in anticipation of where this conversation was headed, "So now you and I have a bit of a dilemma." Selina's emerald green eyes stared back at Falcone's pale blue ones for a long moment.

Before he could begin his usual threats, Selina spoke, "You know I can get your money for you." She said flatly as she stood and paced to look out the window at Gotham's night scene.

"I hear that a lot, Selina, and it's rarely true." The light overhead casted dark shadows over Carmine's eyes, making him seem all the more imposing, though Selina still wasn't scared. She was worth more to him alive than she'd ever be dead.

Selina watched the people in line outside the club as they shifted angrily on their heels; brightly colored lights casted down on them, bathing them all in Gotham's greedy light. Neon lights in this city would promise you anything you wanted- tattoos, liquor, palm readings, hell, even sex was on the menu.

"I hate doing this to you, kitty, but I'm gonna need to make some profit from this. I can't have every bum from here to the East end in here asking for a loan they can't pay back in a reasonable amount of time. I'd go broke waiting for my money to stumble in."

After a few moments of waiting, Selina spoke the words he was waiting for, "How much?"

Selina could see the smile spread across his face, even without turning around. "Five should do."

Selina spun around, not bothering to hide the anger on her face, "Five million?" she said in disbelief, her eyebrows forming angry arches as Falcone shrugged.

"You borrowed three, told me you'd have it back by tonight- which you_ don't_- and expect me to just take it with no profit? Selina, babe, how could I keep my family fed with business like that?" Selina stood with her arms crossed as Carmine continued, "Three for what you borrowed, one for profit," he said as he slipped his cigar into his fingers and tapped it against the ashtray, "one for interest."

"Fine." Is all Selina said as she strode across the room, her heels tapping as she took each hurried step, and snatched her jacket from the back of the chair and slipped it on as she turned to leave. Her fingers had barley brushed against the door when Carmine decided to raise the stakes.

"One week." Selina stopped dead.

"Excuse me?" she asked in disbelief, turning her head slightly.

"I made deals on that money; my business won't wait just 'cuz you got caught in a bad spot." Selina clenched her fist at her side as he repeated in a smug tone, "One week." Selina slammed the door open and made her way across the dance floor towards the entrance of the lounge.

People around her danced to the music, their bodies swaying and pulsing to the music. A couple years ago, she could be found here nearly every weekend, wasting her money on booze and looking for a new, exciting face to take home with her.

She used to party all night and sleep all day, living on the money she'd steal from small time jewelry store robberies; simple things like diamonds and pearls. But that life got old fast.

In three months' time she'd be twenty five, and she'd grown up. Instead of spending her money on partying she donated it around to different charities; one for the preservation of big cats in both the wild and in captivity, and one for cleaning up the East End of the scum that was there when she was growing up.

She doubted the East End would ever be cleaned up, but it's not like she needed the money, so why the hell not? If they want to take on mission impossible then who was she to say no?

Selina made her way across the floor and moved past the bouncers to the outside of the club. It was summer in Gotham but the night air was chilly tonight, and cars that raced by on the street made a fierce breeze that sent shivers up her legs, even with her jacket on.

The club-goers waiting in line hummed in frustration, Selina strode past them and inwardly bet that half of them wouldn't even make it in. But she had more important things to worry about.

She made her way quickly down Gotham's streets, taking shortcuts she knew about and finding herself in the grand lobby of her apartment building in no time. Hugh the doorman held open a large glass door for her, "Thanks, Hugh." She said sweetly as she took a step inside onto the cream colored marble floor.

Her heels clicked on the marble, sending an echo throughout the lobby that alerted Mark at the head desk of her presence, "Welcome home, Miss Kyle." He said with a smile and a nod.

She just gave him a smile that felt very forced on her face, but he couldn't notice her anxiousness, she'd spent years perfecting the art of letting people see only what she wanted them to see.

She made it to the elevator and stepped inside. The speakers played some jazzy instrumental version of "The Way You Look Tonight" as Selina hit the button and folded her arms across her chest in thought.

Five million in one week. She could definitely pull it off, that much was certain. But there were complications to it. Stealing that much that quick, well, the GCPD would be all over her ass in nothing flat. She might be put on the blacklist, and that would just make everything hell for her.

The rogues were always a top priority, if they weren't in Arkham, they were being hunted. And if they were in Arkham, they were being examined, documented, _studied_.

Selina refused to be part of that. If she stole lots of small time pieces, they might not put it all together; she could fetch little things and that would have to do. She couldn't risk being put on the rogues list.

The elevator opened up suddenly, revealing a long hallway with a glass ceiling that let the moonlight shine down. At the end of the hallway was her front door, she quickly pulled out her key from her coat pocket and unlocked it easily.

Inside the smell of drywall reminded her of the renovations to the kitchen and living room she'd just had done. The kitchen looked more like something from Better Homes and Gardens magazine with a new breakfast bar, granite counter top and even a small chandelier that hang overhead.

"Holly, I'm home!" in a halfhearted voice. In a moment, Holly Robinson was standing in front of Selina, her grey eyes wide with questions.

"Well? How did it go? What did he say?" Selina sighed as she slid off her coat, shut the door behind her and slipped by Holly into the kitchen where the scent of spaghetti filled her nose.

"Not great, he's not thrilled about his money..." Holly followed behind Selina closely, pulling at her light brown hair nervously as Selina continued, "he wants five million back."

She said in a huff as she walked to the stove and looked into the pot Holly had the spaghetti sauce sitting in, Selina turned and reached up into a cabinet and grabbed a bowl before turning back and tossing some spaghetti noodles into it and adding a splash of the sauce.

"Well that's not that bad." Holly said with a smile.

Holly in a lot of ways idolized Selina- and it wasn't just because she'd taken her in when she was seventeen so she wouldn't have to go into prostitution on the streets- it was because Selina was so determined, so self-reliant; Holly wished she could be just like Selina, but she realized she was nowhere near her. Holly was shy, timid, soft-spoken - if she ever spoke at all- she was only herself around Selina. Anywhere else and she'd just fade into the background.

Selina and Holly had an arrangement from when Selina first brought her home; Selina would let Holly live with her so long as Holly continued going to school, brought home straight A's, then continued into college –which Selina would help pay for- as long as Holly stayed out of trouble and earned her keep in good grades and hard work.

Holly was now twenty and entering her Junior year at Gotham University when summer ends. She couldn't imagine her life of Selina hadn't saved her from the streets when her parents died in a car crash. She'd had no one and if it wasn't for her…. Holly didn't like to think about it much.

"Yeah but there's one problem," Selina began as she grabbed a fork and started twirling the spaghetti around the metal points, "I have one week." She said before taking a bite. Holly's mouth fell open as she walked further into the kitchen and leaned on the counter.

"What?" she asked in disbelief. Selina just nodded and grabbed a bottle of wine from the chiller and slid a glass from the wine glass rack. She poured as Holly stammered, her eyes looking down at the counter in worry.

"What're you going to do?" Holly finally asked as Selina took a sip and held the glass out in her hand, as if pondering the question.

"What I always do, sweetheart." She said as she returned to her bowl of spaghetti on the counter and twirled another knot of noodles around her fork.

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_**Author's Note: Hope you enjoyed it so far, updates will come when they come, I don't want to put time limits on this story but just know that this story WILL be finished if it kills me. **_

_**Please fav, follow, or leave a review if you want more. ^_^**_

_**Thanks for reading! **_


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